


Sukeban Honoka

by sleepy_matsumoto



Category: Love Live! School Idol Festival (Video Game), Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, F/F, Gang Violence, Out of Character, Sukeban, Swearing, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-12-04 19:35:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11561904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_matsumoto/pseuds/sleepy_matsumoto
Summary: Akihabara, Tokyo. It's the 70s, and Honoka Kousaka has an idea. Her inspiration is sparked by delinquent girl gangs in the area who patrol the streets wreaking havoc wherever they go. Yes, Honoka has an idea: she's going to start a gang of her own.





	1. Chapter 1

Hanayo Koizumi sat still at her desk, perusing a book. Her room was small, but she preferred using the term 'cozy' to describe it. Posters of popular foreign musicians lined the beige walls and her neatly made bed had a jade green duvet. Typical of a teenage girl.

The radio was tuned to a station that played American pop singles. Hanayo had it playing softly, as background noise. Then the previous song ended, and a Simon & Garfunkel tune came on. 

A fan of the musical duo, Hanayo turned the volume dial up even though there was some static. The song was the group's most recent single, "El Condor Pasa", and it was one of Hanayo's favorites. 

The girl hummed along to the folk tune as she flipped through the pages of a flower enclyclopedia. The textual content detailing the specifics of each flower didn't really excite Hanayo (she was so bad at caring for plants that she sometimes thought she had a black thumb) but she liked looking at all of the pictures of different kinds of flowers, even those not native to Japan. She especially liked the flowers with flamboyant, loud colors. The brilliantly red daisies and the striking blue forget-me-nots never failed to catch her eye.

“Hanayo?” A voice called out from the kitchen. “Rin-chan wants to talk to you.”

It was her mother’s voice. Hanayo sighed, a bit peeved that she would have to come downstairs. “I’m coming.”

The girl sped down the wooden stairs on light feet unconcerned of the possibility of slipping (she was wearing warm socks, after all) and came into the kitchen. Her mother was standing and holding the telephone out to her. It was a new phone, still a bit waxy to the touch, and the cord was tightly coiled.

“That Rin girl has always been nothing but trouble. Don’t let her talk you into anything, alright?”

Hanayo watched her mother leave the kitchen and held the telephone up to her ear. “Hello?”

“Kayo-chin! How are you doing? You know there’s this girl at school named Honoka, right? Well she made a gang!”

Hanayo ran her fingers over the rotary dial of the telephone. “That's not all that uncommon now. We’re in high school.”

“Still!” Rin laughed. “It’s fuckin’ ballsy! Rumor is she got the daughter of chairwoman to join her gang too.”

“Rin-chan, I wish you wouldn't swear…”

A crackly sigh came from the other line. “Sorry. Old habits die hard. Well anyway, I joined Honoka’s gang!”

Hanayo usually wasn't all that surprised by Rin’s behavior, but this caught her attention, and she almost dropped the telephone. “Y-you can’t do that! You’ll get in trouble if you do anything stupid.”

“I don’t give a shit about the teachers and the police.” Rin scoffed. “It sounds new and fun, so I'm going to try it.”

Click. 

Rin always got the last word, it seemed. Hanayo hung the telephone back on the wall and sat down at the small dining room table. She slumped and stared at the grains in the wood, thinking about what Rin had just said. She had already decided to join the gang, and there was no stopping Rin once she had her mind set on something.

‘Don’t let her talk you into anything, alright?’

Hanayo always obeyed her mother, and now was no exception. It was also common sense, to keep out of that. She had good grades and attendance, so why would she ruin that by joining a gang?

Getting up to leave for her room, she slipped and fell to the floor with a small thud. Hanayo silently chided herself on her clumsiness. 

For a moment all she wanted to do was sink down into the linoleum, but she stood up and dusted herself off, hurrying up the stairs to her room a bit annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the idea for this when I stumbled upon the Wikipedia article for sukeban and ended up doing more research on the subculture. I thought it was a cool idea for a fic and... the rest is history.


	2. Chapter 2

“Umi-chan, please?” Honoka begged, tugging at her slightly loose red neckerchief. Both her and Umi were wearing long-sleeved navy blue sailor uniforms. School had just let out, and the girls were walking to the main gates amidst a crowd of students.

The second-year fiercely shook her head. It wasn't right, especially for someone of her background. No, she would not join Honoka’s little ‘gang’ even if the girl pleaded. 

Honoka spoke again. “We won't do anything violent. Besides, Kotori-chan and an energetic freshman girl already joined me.”

Umi tried not to show emotion at the mention of Kotori’s name. It was bad enough that Honoka was trying to start a gang, but now she was trying to drag other people into it. 

“You realize the position Kotori-chan is in, correct?” Umi said, fiddling with the zipper on her bag. “If Director Minami catches word of this, you’ll be suspended or worse.”

Honoka frowned. “I don't care about school. I can't go to a good college now that Homura went belly-up.”

Umi felt a pang of pity for her friend. Honoka used to have such a nice home life until her father had to close the sweets shop. In middle school Honoka had been so happy to have everything, appreciative of the little things. But now that she had much less than what she used to have, her whole outlook was different.

When they were younger, Umi used to invite Honoka and Kotori over to the Sonoda estate. The girls would marvel at the sheer size of not only Umi’s house but also the dojo and rehearsal hall. Honoka especially thought it was cool that Umi had access to such luxuries. Now when Honoka came over to stay with Umi she would get irritable and jealous when Umi pointed out some new art or an architectural addition that supplemented the house.

“Is this because of those girls at UTX Academy who became delinquents?” Umi asked.

“Huh?” Honoka said. “In part, I guess. They're cool. But I went to a meeting of local girl gangs and it just sounded… genuine. Their struggle felt real, you know?”

Umi wasn't quite sure what Honoka meant by that. She had been raised in a privileged household and never knew the struggles of less fortunate people, but she supposed it made sense that Honoka sympathized with them now that her family's financial situation had changed.

The two girls reached the main gates, where they had to go their separate ways. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Umi-chan!” Honoka yelled as she walked in the opposite direction as Umi, turning left when Umi went right. 

After waving goodbye, Umi headed straight home. That is, until she spotted a public payphone booth almost completely concealed by advertisements, notices, and stickers. One of the flyers stood out to her; It was a handwritten note in black permanent marker on a faded purple sheet of paper.

‘Attention teenage girls:  
If you are interested in violent liberation, power, and smashing the patriarchy...  
Meet a group of likeminded people behind Ryozo Ramen on Friday, December 11 at 10 pm.

\- Meeting led by Eli Ayase.’

Umi realized that the current day was, coincidentally, December eleventh. After thinking for a moment, she stepped inside the phone booth and shut the door. The smell of cigarette smoke and obnoxiously fruity perfume made Umi crinkle her nose, so she quickly inserted some coins and picked up the lime green payphone. 

She dialed Honoka first. The girl answered after one ring. 

“What is it, Umi-chan?” Honoka asked.

Umi absentmindedly twirled the coils of the telephone. “Can I stay at your place tonight?”

“Like a sleepover?” Honoka said, excited. “I’ll ask my dad.”

After waiting awhile, Umi finally got an answer from Honoka. “He said yes.” Honoka said. “Are your parents fine with it?”

“I’m about to call them.” Umi said. “See you in a bit, Honoka.”

After Umi hung up, she fed the machine more coins and called her house. “Sonoda residence, who is this?” her mother asked. Her voice was sickeningly fake.

“It’s me, mother. I was wondering if I could stay at Honoka’s house tonight. We have a project due on Monday that we have to finish.” Umi lied.

Umi heard a deep sigh from the other end. “I would appreciate it if you would warn your father and I of these things farther in advance, but if it's a school project then I have no objections.”

“Thank you, mother.”

Umi put the telephone back on its base. She walked out of the phone booth, welcoming fresh air into her depraved lungs. Before Umi left for Honoka’s house she took one last look at the crude violet flyer on the side of the telephone booth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future chapters will be longer, I promise... I just really want to bust out these first few quickly to set everything up.


	3. Chapter 3

Ryozo Ramen.

It was a decent ramen shop. Not the most expensive or the most nicely decorated, but it was still fairly popular. Inexpensive and tasty, many locals knew of the spot and the owner had several regular customers.

What the general public didn’t know was that in the back of the well-liked ramen shop several teenage girls would show up every week and break in through the back door. Which is what they were doing tonight.

Umi left Honoka’s house under the pretense that she needed a walk to clear her mind. Honoka was a bit confused as to why Umi needed to clear her mind so late at night but didn't stop her friend from heading out.

And so Umi found herself behind a cheap ramen place after dark with a group of delinquent and soon-to-be delinquent girls. She felt a little out of place, if she was to be honest.

One of the established gang members conjured a lockpick set and began working on the door. While she did that, another delinquent girl started talking. She had short, pale brown hair and had on a white sailor uniform with black and gold trim.

“Eli-san,” the girl said calmly, addressing a tall blonde girl. “Have you reconsidered our gang’s proposal? We could use someone like you.”

The girl Umi assumed was Eli lit a cigarette. “I appreciate the offer, Tsubasa, but I have no interest in a group like yours.”

At this the other girl lost her temper. Her green eyes flickered with anger, and she pulled out something from beneath her skirt. “What about our group is not up to your standards!?” she snapped.

Eli merely fixed her ponytail. “For one, your first instinct is to resort to violence.” She deftly swiped the pocketknife that the other girl had brandished. “I can’t trust a leader like that.”

Before the other girl could respond (with words or violence) the creaky door swung open and the lockpick girl motioned for the rather large group of people to enter the back storage area.

Once inside, the gang members climbed up a metal ladder that took them to the second floor, which seemed abandoned. The only things on this floor were empty cardboard boxes and a few multi-purpose buckets.

The place reeked of cheap alcohol, cigarettes, and… was that weed? The stench wasn't the greatest start to the meeting, but Umi pushed on and took a seat on an old bucket covered in a fine layer of dust. She sat on the outside edge of a semicircle of people that surrounded a small wooden crate.

Umi thought she would be the only one wearing a school uniform, but many of the people in the front of the room (who seemed to be gang members) wore them, though they were usually altered in some way.

It was dark, and the only light illuminating the room came from the faint glow of various cigarettes from the front of the room. Eli and the short girl who had been talking to her were standing up.

Umi turned to a girl near to her who was polishing a butterfly knife and asked her who the blonde girl was.

“You don’t know who she is?” The girl said, amused. “That’s Eli Ayase. She’s currently unaffiliated, but _damn_ is she good with words. A natural public speaker.”

Umi nodded. She could respect someone like that, even if they frequently walked on the wrong side of the law.

Eli flicked on her lighter, presumably to be used as a light source. She held it under her face and stepped into the middle of the room so that everyone in the semicircle could see her. She wore a uniform that was very similar to Otonokizaka’s uniform save for the fact that she had made the skirt much longer and sewed archaic kanji onto the pleats of the skirt.

“We have quite the crowd here today.” she noted. “Lots of new faces.”

Nobody else spoke. Not even the girl who had been arguing with Eli earlier.

“For all you newcomers, I am Eli Ayase. I’m most known for my strong opinions and strong distaste of Godzilla movies.”

Some of the gang members laughed at her statement, but the majority stayed silent. Umi looked down and fiddled with the hem of her skirt.

“We are all puppets.” Eli said, taking her spot on the wooden crate. “Our puppeteers take several forms: they can be parents, teachers, government officials, Japanese society, and even ourselves.

“We are constantly being molded into being perfect people in order to be role models for the next generation of perfect people.”

Eli flicked the ash off of her cigarette, then put it back in her mouth. Her ice-blue eyes scanned the group of girls until she saw one who stood out. “You there,” she said, pointing to Umi, “What do you consider your most controlling puppeteer?”

Umi blinked. “Most… controlling? My parents, I suppose.”

“As puppets, we naturally want to be free of our puppeteers. How will you do that?” Eli asked.

Umi searched her mind for the correct answer. Everyone was looking at her, and her cheeks started to flush. “Um… I’ll disobey them?”

Eli frowned slightly. “Think _more._ They’ll just get angry if you disobey them.”

“Then, I’ll…” Umi trailed off. She couldn't think of anything _more._ Disobeying her parents was already a dastardly deed in her mind, and now this girl was asking for more. In a pinch, she threw out the most radical ideas she could think of. “I’ll stop talking to them. Quit school. Leave the house.”

Not expecting such a subversive and rebellious answer, Eli was stunned for a moment. “That’s… that's right.” she said. “Doing that will successfully complete the end goal of being rid of your puppeteers, which in this case are your parents.”

Umi said all those things, but in the end they were just words. She wouldn't actually do those things, right?

“By doing what my friend here has demonstrated,” Eli said, “You, too can cut the strings that connect you to your puppeteers. It takes a bit of thinking, a bit of action, and a ton of resolve.”

After Eli’s closing statement the meeting ended and the girls left the spot above the ramen shop, leaving it abandoned once again.

Umi returned to Honoka’s house in a daze. What Eli had said (and made her say) was still swirling around in her mind. Talk of such extreme behavior was disturbing to her sheltered, conservative mindset.

Though Umi normally slept soundly, that night she stayed awake thinking of countless scenarios and ideas, as if she would forget everything if she slept.


	4. Chapter 4

Honoka inserted a small metal key into the keyhole and locked the front door of her house. She turned around and looked out at her street. A smile spread onto her face when she saw the residential area had a light dusting of snow on it, like the gods had sprinkled powdered sugar over the city.

Umi had left just an hour before, and now Honoka was going to meet with Kotori. She had spent a sizable amount of time picking out her outfit for the occasion. From the warm boots on her feet to the cute parka she was wrapped in to the snow-white hat covering her bright orange hair, she was ready to go out. Yes, it was going to be a good day. A very good day.

Honoka’s mind filled with romantic fantasies and cute couple ideas at the thought of spending time with Kotori. She wasn’t just going to meet with Kotori, after all. It was a date. That’s right… of course. At that moment, Honoka Kousaka was leaving the house to go on a date with her girlfriend.

Although admittedly the word ‘girlfriend’ was still slightly foreign to her. When she and Kotori told Umi about the new stage in their relationship she had struggled to push the word from between her lips. But she was going to get used to it for sure.

She started for Kanda shine (Kotori had come up with the idea of praying for a long relationship there) but hesitated when she saw a man at the end of the street on the other side of the road. He wore a long dark brown coat that was dappled with snow. His hands were buried deep in his pockets and a very short cigarette hung in his mouth, smoked down to the filter.

Upon seeing the strange man, Honoka’s initial thought was ‘yakuza’. It hadn’t escaped her notice that there were more men sporting tattoos and missing fingers in this new neighborhood compared to the old one. Honoka warily proceeded, keeping an eye on the man.

She made it to the end of the street, pretending not to notice the stranger on the corner. She was almost home free when a gruff voice called out to her. “Hey, you!”

Honoka instantly froze. She slowly turned her head to face the man, but she didn’t look him in the eyes and instead stared at his feet.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing living here?” the man said. “I bet you go to one of the nice schools in the city.”

Blue eyes widened briefly. Honoka stumbled backwards a half-step, her boots sinking slightly into fresh snow. She had never been talked to that way by a stranger. Also, regarding what the man had said…

_What’s a pretty girl like you doing living here?_

That comment made Honoka want to scream until she was hoarse and throw a tantrum until every muscle in her body was sore. Of course Honoka didn't want to live in a sketchy residential district crawling with yakuza members. She would choose to go back to her old life and her old house above the familiar sweets shop in a heartbeat.

She wanted to yell and tell the man that it wasn't her goddamn fault that Homura flopped. It wasn't her goddamn fault that her father used all the money in her college fund to buy a new house and pay off the debt they were in. It wasn't her goddamn fault that the girls at school thought less of her now that it was well known that the family business went bankrupt. It wasn't her goddamn fault at all.

Honoka bolted across the street. She let out a primal yell fueled by unadulterated anger and animosity aimed not just the man, but everything. Everyone.

Her father. The jackasses at school. Her mother. Everyone in the city. The entire population of Japan.

They were all her enemy.

Her fist came down hard against the man’s stomach. She almost laughed at the look of pure shock he exhibited, but instead she yelled again. And again. Every punch she delivered, every kick she made made her heart feel lighter and lighter.

She was happy. Utterly happy.

At last Honoka stopped. She saw her cloudy breath in the winter air as she panted. Her fists were covered in red from where she dealt a few blows to the man’s face and drew blood.

Speaking of the stranger, she looked down at him. She had knocked him unconscious and he was now lying prone on the ground. His blood was beginning to turn the snow crimson.

The last thing Honoka wanted was a mess. She was about to stay and move the man somewhere less conspicuous but then she remembered her date with Kotori. She quickly wiped her bloodied hands off in the stinging snow and hurried towards her destination, stuffing her hands back in her pockets as she ran.


	5. Chapter 5

“Honoka-chan.” Kotori’s breath was white as snow. Her jade green outfit and light grey hair made her seem to blend in with the surroundings, like she had become a part of the muted color palette.

“Sorry I’m late,” Honoka said, panting a bit. She hadn't expected to run all the way to the shrine, but she did so anyway. “I ran into a sketchy guy and I had to take a detour.”

Kotori’s eyes softened. Her tone was sweet and melodic. “Was he around your neighborhood?”

Honoka licked her chapped lips. Her expression turned sour. “That’s right.”

The couple walked wordlessly to the shrine’s entrance, taking their time and admiring the snow as it fell. Honoka relaxed and laid her head on Kotori’s shoulder.

She hesitated when Kotori held her hand out for Honoka to hold. She felt like the man’s blood had seeped into her skin, and she didn't want to hold Kotori’s hand with her own dirtied one.

Kotori gave her a puzzled look. “Sorry, Kotori-chan.” Honoka said, a bit sheepish. “My hands are a bit cold.”

The grey-haired girl nodded. They arrived at the shrine entrance and looked up at the red building. Green and yellow adorned the shrine as well, but the vermillion was prominent against the whitewashed environment.

“It’s as red as a ground cherry.” Kotori said softly.

Honoka gave a quiet sound of agreement. To her the color reminded of the blood she had spilled not even an hour before.

She couldn't stop thinking about it. She was supposed to be spending time with Kotori, holding her hand and walking into the shrine together and praying for a good relationship, but instead Honoka thought about how _good_ it felt when she slammed her fist into a poor man’s face.

Could that kind of _good_ be likened to her relationship with Kotori?

Honoka blinked. She was alarmed that she seriously considered comparing violence to romance. But maybe the two things weren't complete opposites.

Attacking the man gave Honoka a feeling of power. And as a powerless girl in an unfair world it felt nice to have some sort of control. Really nice, actually. Honoka felt like she could do anything. She had already started a gang, even if it was just three people (they had to start somewhere, right?) and she had already beaten someone unconscious.

The path to delinquency was laid out before her, and it was up to her whether she wanted to walk it.

Well, that would be up to the rest of her friends to decide. She wouldn't resort to violence unless they wanted to as well.

“Kotori-chan.”

The other girl tore her gaze from the shrine and set her warm hazel eyes on Honoka. “What’s wrong?”

“About the gang,” Honoka said slowly, “How would you feel if it turned… violent?”

Honoka waited for Kotori to respond. It felt like an eternity to her, like time had been paused. The last thing she wanted was to ruin this date with talk of the gang but it was imperative that she bring it up especially after the prior incident. A shaky breath escaped her lips.

“Well, that’s the definition of a gang.” Kotori answered. Her voice was still dulcet despite the dark subject matter. “I wouldn't have joined if I didn't accept that part of it.”

Honoka relaxed. The pounding of her heart faded away. “Then… you’re fine with it?”

“That’s what I said.” Kotori replied simply.

Honoka reached out for Kotori’s hand, and the girl readily received it. She felt her shoulders relax at the touch and breathed in the cool winter air. For the first time that day Honoka calmed down her mind and her body; she had been tense ever since the violent encounter with that man earlier.

Their fingers intertwined tightly, and Honoka felt as if Kotori was an extension of her person. She was at peace with her decision.

/

Three plush dolls hung from Kotori’s small desk lamp. Honoka, Umi, and Kotori. They dangled from cords and and swayed when a particularly strong draft entered through the open window of her bedroom.

Kotori snipped a length of black thread from a spool. She set down her sharp pair of scissors and threaded a needle with the black thread. Her room was quiet and her desk was bathed in artificial light.

A half-finished doll lay on her cutting mat. It looked very similar to her, its long ashen hair represented by grey felt. Kotori cut carefully at the soft white fabric of its clothes: a pantsuit.

The room was still. Calm, but suspiciously so. There was a revolution underway just outside Kotori’s house, lurking in the shadows. Its flames were being fanned by the teenage girls who were dissatisfied with the current state of affairs.

She was one of them, wasn't she? One of _them_. The punks. The rebels. She was now in a gang, and she had agreed to use violence if necessary.

Kotori drew two circles on orange felt. She cut them out and arranged them onto the doll’s face. The eyes. She sewed them on one at a time, taking her time and enjoying her project, a labor of love.

Even if it didn't seem like it, she was ready. She was ready to do something, anything. Something compelling, thought-provoking, violent even. Anything to give a big middle finger to everything she knew.

Kotori’s circumspect stitching had yielded good results; not a single loose thread was to be found and the doll was perfectly symmetrical and pleasing to the eye.

It was a simple doll. A color palette of muted grey, soft white, and burnt orange was all it had to offer. But it had charm to it, maybe because it was handmade, maybe because it was so simple, that made it appealing in its own way.

The fabric scissors on the edge of Kotori’s desk gleamed under the harsh light of her desk lamp. She positioned the doll directly in the center of her desk on the cutting mat. Her right hand reached for the scissors while her left hand held the doll in place.

Bullseye.

The scissors pierced the plush doll where its heart would be. Stuffing poked out at the area where the blade entered. Kotori gripped the scissor handles tightly and glared at the doll for a few seconds before taking the scissors out of the doll’s chest area.

Kotori adjusted her desk lamp and held the doll up to the light. The blade had not gone all the way through the other side of the doll. She frowned.

Once again Kotori plunged the scissors back in, only this time she made sure they had pierced the back side. She twisted the scissors as to make a larger hole. Even more stuffing fell onto her desk, drifting and settling on her cutting mat like snow.

Kotori set the mutilated doll on her desk once again. She wondered where she could leave her work of art. She figured it would be unwise to leave it out where her mother could find it.

Her school bag was by her feet, right where she had left it. She placed the doll inside of it and zipped it closed, sealing the grave and her sins. Kotori stared emptily at the bag. It was tiresome to have to keep hiding her true intentions like this, but hopefully with Honoka’s influence she could actually do something to turn Japan on its head.

/

“Why the fuck is this world so goddamn boring?”

Rin fished a bag of figs out of her coat pocket. She had taken the fruit from the kitchen counter before leaving the house. After staring at the figs for a moment, Rin tore the bag open and popped one into her mouth.

Her face contorted at the taste. “Yuck.” She spat the fig out onto the icy sidewalk, leaving a dark purple stain at her feet.

Rin sat plopped down on a nearby wooden bench. The fig’s foul taste was still in her mouth, and she spit once again for good measure. She looked around the park but saw no passerby.

She frowned. People-watching was not fun when there were no people to be watched.

It made sense that the park was devoid of people. Winter had crept into Tokyo and Christmas came with it. Most of the city’s inhabitants were staying with family for the holidays. Rin was the only person there, and only her footprints dotted the snow.

But Rin didn’t want that. She needed other people, even if they were strangers. She needed another person, another pair of footprints to deface the flat, flawless sheet of snow with her.

An orange-haired girl walked towards Rin, her boots leaving soft marks in the snow.

“Can I help you?” Rin asked.

The girl shifted her feet. “You look familiar.” she said. “Do we go to the same school? I’m Honoka.”

Rin hummed. “Are you the girl who started that gang?”

“I am.”

Rin smirked. “Then that makes me the girl who joined your gang.”

A look of realization fell upon Honoka’s face. “That’s right.”

A wall of silence came up between the girls. To Rin it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Nothing could make her unsettled. Embarrassment was an unfamiliar beast, one that she had never considered in her daily interactions.

She sized up Honoka, unaware of how the girl shifted under her glare.

“About that,” Honoka said, “Do you… have a weapon?”

Rin blinked. “A weapon, huh… Nope, but I can find one. Eager to pummel some fuckers into the dirt?”

Honoka hesitated before responding. It seemed she wasn't expecting such coarse language from an underclassman. “...Something like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School's been taking up most of my time so it's been eons since the last update... But here's the fifth chapter (finally!) of Sukeban.


	6. Chapter 6

Rin stood a few feet away from the edge of the street corner. Her posture lacked any hint of nervousness or hesitation, and there was a glint of excitement in her eyes. She was ready.

An old bicycle chain hung from the back pocket of her trousers. It was covered in a thin layer of brick-red rust. Rin moved suddenly, and the chain jangled as she did so. She looked cool, like a real rebel.

“Are we gonna do it or what?” she asked impatiently.

Honoka blinked. She had been staring at Rin for a little while, and the sudden comment brought her out of her thoughts. She was a tad envious of the younger girl’s limitless audacity; even Honoka had to admit that their plan was dangerous and made her apprehensive.

Swallowing her anxiety, Honoka looked towards Kotori, who had been waiting silently like a hawk. “Are you ready?”

Kotori smiled. “I’ve been ready for a while, Honoka-chan.”

Honoka slipped a hand into her coat pocket and felt around for the weapon she had brought: a chainlock made from a short length of rope and a padlock. Her sweaty hand tightened around it and he desperately tried to tap into that raw power she had felt the day prior on that snowy street corner. It didn’t come. She hadn’t really expected it to, but anything was worth a shot.

“Let’s go.” Honoka said, her jaw setting into a harsh scowl. It was fake, but it helped get her into the mindset. As a sane person she would have to briefly lose a thread of her humanity in order to execute their plan.

Kotori and Rin followed behind her as she took a few clunky steps towards their destination: the convenience store. Once again Honoka gripped the weapon in her pocket. She didn’t want to use it, but she had a premonition that such an outcome was inevitable.

Honoka set one hand on the door handle and pushed the door inward. Time slowed, and she felt as if she was walking through molasses. Things were fuzzy. Blurry. She had lost her touch with reality. The vibrant reds, greens, and blues of the commercial packaging and advertisements were muted and became no more than tinted grey hues. Her mind, her heartbeat, her movements were all muddled in a murky soup.

A man behind the counter turned to face the three girls. His ancient face was accentuated by deep wrinkles. He was joined by another, younger man who was sitting in a folding chair and reading a newspaper. The younger man was clean-shaven and seemed to be in his twenties. A college student. He didn’t look up when the girls walked into the store and continued thumbing through the paper unconcerned.

It appeared to Honoka that Kotori, Rin, and her own self were the only people in the store save for the men at the counter.

The cashier shook his head and chuckled. Had Kotori said something to him? Honoka didn’t know for sure, as her senses were strangely numbed and it felt like she was viewing everything from a distance and processing the events slowly. She felt trapped underwater.

She watched as Rin lashed her chain at the two men. Their pure terror was expressed plainly on their faces. They were likely still in shock, Rin had attacked so quickly. It was insane. _Rin_ was insane. The younger girl had absolutely no qualms about inflicting violence on innocent people. Honoka slipped back into her original self, the tough exterior she had on fading away like melting snow.

The whipping of grey hair caught Honoka’s attention. Kotori was brandishing a pair of sharp scissors and holding them inches from the old cashier’s throat. It seemed that they were involved in some sort of verbal fight as well. Both Kotori’s and the cashier’s mouths were moving, but again Honoka’s hearing was dulled and it was impossible for her to make out their voices. The cashier’s trembling hand fumbled for the telephone on the wall.

“Why can’t you just give us the fucking money!?” Rin growled. She turned to Honoka a gave her a look. “Don’t just stand there! Make sure he doesn’t call the fuzz on us.”

Rin’s voice sliced through the silent noise. Honoka was thrust back into reality. In an instant she was back and drowning in her heightened senses. Hypersensitivity. It was painful to exist. The glaring lights overhead sent a stinging sensation through her temple. The pop ballad blaring from the radio drilled a hole into her skull and bounced inside her head, those oft-repeated guitar chords becoming intolerably loud blasts of noise.

The tiles beneath her feet had been made muddy from their sudden entrance. Honoka’s sense of equilibrium was thrown off and she nearly slipped onto the floor. Her feet tangled and she stumbled her way forward towards the counter. She almost fell, but her shaky hand gripped the edge of counter with a fierce determination. Honoka grinned.

To an outsider the situation must have seemed a sorry sight: a teenage girl attempting to rob a convenience store while scarcely having the balance to not fall down. Hardly honorable and tough now, the pitiful girl had fallen from grace.

She forced a yell out from her lips, a yell of desperation. At that moment her existence had a horrible harshness to it. Honoka needed to break the shackles of that awful life.

Honoka jerked the chainlock she had prepared from her coat pocket and whipped it around in a single, rapid loop. She flung it across the younger man’s jaw, the momentum from the loop motion carrying over into the blow and causing the man to fall to the side in agony. The impact was hard enough to fracture a bone, Honoka reckoned, and the large amount of blood staining his cheek only strengthened the suspicion that she had dealt a strong blow.

Bits of metal flew in all directions, like a bomb had been detonated. The padlock on the end of the length of rope had shattered when it came into contact with the man’s jaw.

Nobody spoke. Honoka was just as stunned as the men. Kotori and Rin were unsure of what they had do and their weapons were held uselessly down at their sides.

The old cashier’s fearful brown eyes widened at the sight of his badly injured coworker. “I-I’m getting you the money, alright!” he said quickly, opening the cash register with haste and turning it around so the girls could take as much money as they had pleased.

While Kotori methodically took the money from the cash register, Honoka absently eyed the trinkets on the counter. They were toys, mainly, but also cheap candies. She specifically had her eye on a red metal yo-yo that looked familiar. Maybe she had seen it on a television show?

Once the money was safely tucked away in Kotori’s coat pocket, Rin and Kotori started for the door. Honoka scanned the store one last time before turning to leave. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the cashier reach for the telephone again.

Honoka froze. Out of instinct more than anything else she lunged for the red yo-yo she was looking at not much earlier. She found the end of the string and in a whiplike motion dealt a blow to the man’s arm with the metal outer shell.

The toy miraculously hit him in the wrist. He flinched away in pain like a cat recoiling from water, with even his hunched and timid posture making him seem like a frightened feline. Honoka glared at him with every ounce of animosity in her being. “Don’t fucking try it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On this chapter of Sukeban Honoka: a defenseless college student is knocked upside the head by a pissed off teenaged girl with a metal yo-yo. 
> 
> Also, I had a bit of an identity change...


End file.
